


Let's Finish What We've Started

by AndreaLyn



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: When Alex fell in love with Henry, his dreams changed into something new -- still bright, still exciting. Eight years on, Alex is running for the Senate and taking those steps to achieve those dreams, but something feels off in his marriage and Alex can't really explain if it's in his head or whether he and Henry actually have a problem. In the midst of a busy campaign, eager to show Texas what he can do, Alex also has to ask himself -- is it all worth it if Henry isn't at his side?
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 42
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Nixie for the beta! Title comes from _Flaws_ by Bastille, and this fic exists because I finished the book and immediately wanted to think about Henry coping with the reality of Alex's intended future and how that looks as they settle into the rest of their lives. I hope you enjoy my first foray into this fandom.

> _TEXAS’ FORMER FIRST SON LOOKING TO CLAIM SENATE SEAT_
> 
> _Alex Claremont-Diaz, best known as America’s First Son and husband of Prince Henry, recently announced his candidacy for next fall’s senate election in Texas. Returning to his roots, Alex hopes to give back to the state that has given him so much. “This is where I was born,” Alex said at a recent rally, “It’s where I grew up, it’s the place where I got my education in book smarts and a hell of a lot of street smarts. Even though I’ve been under plenty of roofs, set foot in many countries, nowhere’s been home like Texas. Y’all are my family, and I want to give back to this great state.”_
> 
> _Article continues on C2._

The copy of the newspaper lands atop the breakfast counter, atop Alex’s laptop bag, keys, and phone. He hasn’t read the story, but he also hasn’t had a ton of texts telling him to avoid it, so he’s pretty fucking convinced it won’t be bad. He checks to see if there’s anything from Henry and catches himself smiling like an idiot when he sees the text from him from earlier in the morning.

Years later, Alex still hasn’t changed his name in his phone, so his husband’s name still registers as ‘HRH Prince Dickhead’ within their text histories.

The last message from Henry is his morning selfie for Alex, with no mention of the article. Given the time difference, he might not have read it yet. Besides that, Henry’s got his own life. He knows about Alex’s campaign and that’s good enough. Alex doesn’t expect his bae to be reading every last article about his progress.

That way madness lies.

He’s in the middle of putting away groceries and feeding Ziggy at the same time when his phone rings. He hasn’t spoken to Henry all day and Alex feels like his husband must know how badly he’s missing him, not even thinking that it could be someone else. He drops the groceries and opts to feed Ziggy and talk on the phone (Henry would approve), not bothering to check caller ID before he presses ‘Talk’. 

“You should have let me write your speech.”

Alex rolls his eyes, shaking out some dry food into Ziggy’s bowl, and missing Henry more than he did that morning, more than he did at lunch, and more than he did when he first hit ‘accept’ on June’s call. Not Henry. He can live with that, even if he’s sorely disappointed.

“I needed it to come from my own point of view,” Alex argues. She knows that. “Are you calling me just to bitch about the speech, or is this another dig at my choice of when I filed my candidacy?” 

It’s a brisk and cold December day, just like yesterday when he’d submitted all his official paperwork. Early December in Texas is chillier than most people think, but maybe it’s just that Alex feels alone. The bed is empty and no one is there to curl up with him other than the dog, who doesn’t have nearly the same talent for snuggling as Henry does. 

He’d waited to file until just before the deadline, which means Alex’s Christmas present to himself is a hell of a lot of stress and an attempt to capture the news cycle by being the last one in.

“Drama queen,” had been Nora’s accusation.

“Smart,” was Luna’s assessment.

Henry hadn’t made a comment about it, but Alex had written it off as Henry not knowing the intricacies of American politics. He doesn’t see any problem, because it’s not like they whisper sweet nothings to one another about the Texas filing guideline rules.

June insists that she’s calling to give him hell about the most recent speech and nothing else. With her fourth best-selling book out and several awards to her name for her articles, he’s not surprised that she’s critical of his writing, but he’s had almost eight years since he first conjured up this dream of a life in the Senate and plenty of time to mentally write, rewrite, and then rewrite his speeches again.

“I’m thirty,” Alex protests as he settles into the cozy armchair that he’d picked up with Henry at a vintage flea market. “I don’t need my sister to write my speeches for me anymore.”

“No, you don’t, what you need is to _hire_ your sister to write them for you if you want to win.”

“It’s my first speech,” Alex contests, as hotly as ever. “You’re gonna have loads of opportunities. Why are you on my ass about this, you knew I intended to go into this on my own at the start and build the campaign up.” He doesn’t want to be every other candidate. He wants people to know that he’s every bit the same Alex Claremont-Diaz that he was when he was first introduced to the country as the President’s son.

The difference is that now, he’s asking his great state to allow him to lead. That means they need to know who he is, not through June’s words, not anyone else’s. Only his.

“Fine,” June sighs, even though it’s not fine and Alex hears it in her voice. She’s just pretending it is because she knows she can’t get blood out of a stone or whatever ancient proverb she’s running her mouth around these days. “Are you nervous?”

“What? Me?” Alex is fiddling with a fidget spinner nearby to give his fingers something to do. “I’m trying to become the youngest senator in history, I’m openly bisexual, my husband is the prince of England, and our mother used to be President and she carried Texas in the last election. I don’t know, you think that’s a big enough shadow to try and crawl out of?” Alex complains.

“What’s with you, Grumpy Cat?” 

Alex scowls, but she’s still nicer than Nora, who’d just ask what bee stung his asshole to get him like this.

“I miss Henry,” Alex admits, a mumbled confession that he doesn’t want to think about too long. 

“He’s still overseas being a literal Prince Charming?”

Alex confirms with a small sound, making room in his lap for Ziggy to crawl in with him. “I knew the center in Prague was gonna take a while, I knew it’d be during the campaign announcement, but I am stressed as _fuck_ June, and all I want is…”

“Aw, Alex,” June cuts him off. He can hear the smirk.

“Do not say it.”

“You need your dashing prince to take you in his arms and make the pain go away?”

“I hate you,” Alex groans. He’s thirty years old and it feels like he and June are still teenagers, most days.

“I am sure that he’s thinking of you all lonely in whatever high-thread count sheets he’s lying in.” June means well, but talking about Alex’s husband reclining in a comfortable, luxurious bed isn’t going to do the trick, because it’s only going to make Alex think about what he’s wearing and then get jealous of some lucky fucking sheets if they get to touch all of Henry’s bare skin.

It’s a good thing this isn’t a video call, because he doesn’t need June seeing how petulant he is. 

The silence drags on, which seems to give June a hint at how Alex isn’t ready to joke about this. 

She softens her tone when she says, “I bet he misses you like crazy.” 

“Guess I just thought we’d be doing this together.” Alex gets it, though. They’re adults and real life gets in the way, especially when they both have their own goals and ambitions. Alex wants to be a senator and Henry wants to help young kids. They share their road, sure, but sometimes when they have different ambitions, there are detours they have to take on their own..

He only wishes he could figure out how to feel better about those times.

“Do I get to write your donor speech at least? You know you hate schmoozing,” June changes topics swiftly with the skill of someone who’s been taught how to shift the news cycle. 

Honestly, she’s _too_ damn good at it, but Alex will let it slide.

And, because Alex loves his sister and hates schmoozing, he knows it’s right on the money. “Yes, you can write my corporate shill speech,” he allows. “Provided I get final veto power.”

“Absolutely,” June says. There’s a rustle on the other end of the phone before it calms (June getting her notebook). “Okay, top three messages, hit me…”

They end up talking for a few hours, the whole time with Alex focusing on his speech and not how lonely the bed is without Henry. He absently pats Ziggy the whole time and when June hangs up, he’s left with the overbearing silence of his own place.

It’s so quiet, he nearly does a very stupid thing and turns on CNN to see what they’re saying about his campaign launch.

“You miss Dad too, huh?” he asks Ziggy, when the dog whines at Alex for not rubbing his ears anymore.

_Yeah_ , he thinks. _Get in line._

When Henry gets home, Ziggy’s going to have to wait. The very first person who deserves Henry’s hands all over him is his very patient husband.

_Soon_ , he reminds himself. Henry will be back soon. 

Until then, Alex has a campaign to focus on, and that ought to take up all his time and attention.

* * *

Even after eight years together, Alex can’t go a few nights without the ache of missing Henry consuming him wholly. 

He’s long thought of Texas as his home, but the truth is that when he fell in love with Henry, home became wherever that man existed, and they’ve been apart too long. He knows it’s necessary and that it’s not the first time, but somehow this time around feels harder. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been able to talk much on the phone with Alex launching a senate campaign and Henry opening a new shelter in Prague. 

It’s understandable for them to be apart.

What Alex understands a whole lot fucking less is why Henry hasn’t been calling. He finally gives in when it’s been four nights without a conversation with Henry, curling up in bed with Ziggy and trying not to do something stupid like haul one of Henry’s shirts out of the closet to bury his nose in it and smell it until he calms down.

(He may or may not be wearing one of Henry’s hoodies to get that same effect, he’s not telling)

When Henry picks up, he doesn’t say anything at first. There’s only the soft exhalation of breath and Alex glances to the clock.

“Shit,” he says. “It’s three in the morning there.”

“It is,” Henry concurs. “You’re very lucky that I love my husband immensely.”

“Yeah? Must be a pretty stupid guy to call you so early.”

“I’ll forgive him,” Henry says, but there’s something strange in his tone that Alex can’t place.

Bitterness? Regret?

“Are you okay, baby?” Alex wants to make an attempt to understand why Henry sounds like that, rifling through his memory to figure out what he might have done. There are no scandals in the news, Henry’s family like him these days (well, certain members have always liked him and others have taken longer to come around), and they’re going to be together soon enough. “Is it the center? Did something happen?”

“The usual nonsense,” Henry sighs. “Permits far too late that stall construction, the paparazzi lurking like vultures eager for a meal. And worst of all…”

“Tell me the worst of it.”

“The absolute worst of all? My husband is very far from me and the t-shirt he gave me to sleep in has lost his smell.”

“That is a tragedy,” Alex agrees, swathed in the comfort of knowing that Henry _does_ miss him. Whatever strange note is in his voice isn’t because of him, and he takes that soothing thought to heart, hoping that he hasn’t actually done anything. “Can you hand the opening off to Pez or one of the others? I really could use you. The first donors event is coming up and you know I love having you there to charm the masses.”

There’s a long pause -- long enough to make Alex panic that he’s lost Henry, but when he pulls the phone away from his ear, he sees that they’re not disconnected.

Henry’s gone quiet, is all.

“I can’t do that, Alex,” Henry whispers. “This is important to me. You know how important this is.”

Alex does. He just also thought that because it was the tenth center, it didn’t matter as much as Alex’s _first_ campaign, but what’s he supposed to say?

_Yeah, fuck all those poor kids who need a space to feel safe and happy and learn who they are. I need you with me because I’m a selfish asshole_.

He really can’t see that going over well. 

Still, that selfish part of himself isn’t shutting up either. The kids need Henry, but so does his husband, and if Henry’s feeling bereft about the shirt not smelling of Alex anymore, he wants to point out that he feels a dozen times worse because the sheets are empty without him here. “When are you coming home?” Alex asks instead, settling on the near-future. 

“With the delays?” 

The heavy sigh on the phone is all the answer Alex needs.

“The kids are important,” Alex hurries to speak first. 

Henry can’t hurt him with his answer if Alex beats him to it. 

“I’m run off my ass,” Alex prattles, glad he’s not really lying, “I’ve got the donors event coming up and Nora wants to go over polling data so we can set up our strategy, so it’ll be a few weeks before I come up for air,” he says, trying this best to sound bored and calm about the fact that Henry’s not going to be home for ages yet.

“...oh.” 

Henry’s bitter disappointment means that Alex must have swung too far the other way.

_Fuck, shit, fuck._

“I miss the hell out of you, though,” he course-corrects quickly. 

“I do as well,” is Henry’s soft echo of Alex’s feelings. 

It’s like everything is right again. The stars align, the earth turns, and Henry loves Alex, which means that everything is okay. “Come back as soon as you can, but not so soon that a single kid is left wanting,” he says. “And then, we can run this campaign together.”

“Right,” Henry says, after a long and steady beat. “I will.” 

The silence goes on, but no more words come. Seconds draw into minutes, and then, Henry hangs up without saying ‘I love you’.

He’s never done that before. Alex grips his phone in hand tightly, wondering what the hell is happening. Did Henry just forget? Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Maybe Alex will get a text within minutes that says that he’s forgotten and he loves him more than life. It doesn’t feel right, and that’s the part that Alex is trying so valiantly to ignore.

Because, just maybe, Alex needs to recognize that something is going on, but the problem is, he has no idea in hell what, and he’s too scared to ask in case it turns out to be something he can’t fix.

* * *

Something is wrong, Alex tells himself. Something is wrong with Henry, something is wrong in their marriage, something is going to happen to take all this happiness away from him, and he can’t stop it. He needs a list, he needs to take control, he needs --

“If you don’t start smiling, people are going to put away their checkbooks.”

Alex startles out of the spiralling mood he’s descending into when Rafael Luna approaches with two glasses of wine in hand. The man is still unfairly handsome after all these years, though Alex is beginning to think about asking for tips on how to age like a smoking hot fox, given that Luna clearly has it down pat.

“Here. Drink.”

Alex reaches for the wine, greedily gulping it back. He’s thirty and Luna is still his mentor and his role model, even with the near-hiccup that nearly tore it all asunder. Still, the man is more than making up for it by bringing him liquor to pull him out of the panic attack he’d been about to have. It’s not doing much for his attention bouncing off the walls like a rubber ball, but that one is a ship that sailed a long time ago.

“You planning on telling me why you look like someone shot your dog?”

“Am I being obvious?”

“Only to me,” Luna assures. “Kid, what’s going on?”

Alex scowls. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

“Clearly, you’ve still got plenty to learn. Smiles on, no cursing, not in front of the donors. And tell your old friend what’s going on.”

Alex smirks, latching onto the jibe instead of the fact that Luna can see past him. “Old being the operative word.” 

“Clever,” Luna deadpans. “What’s up, kid?”

Alex breathes out shakily, trying to overcome old trust issues. He knows that he can trust Luna again, but that moment all those years ago when he thought Luna was responsible for outing his secret has left scars. If any of this leaks to the press, his campaign might be over before it starts when they pivot to talking about gossip rather than policy, but Alex really needs to talk about it with someone.

“I had a weird phone call with Henry last night,” he admits. “He hung up without saying that he loves me.”

Luna’s still staring at him, almost like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When it’s clear Alex is done, Luna’s eyes go wide. “Eight years in and you still end every call with ‘I love you’? Maybe you should be writing romance columns and not running for Senate. I’m only kidding,” he adds quickly, seeing the way Alex is starting to puff out his chest in indignation. “Why’s that freaking you out?”

“Because Henry doesn’t do that,” Alex says heatedly, and he should know. He is the foremost Prince Henry expert in the world, with maybe only Bea in second place. “Even if he didn’t say the words, he’d leave things with a sweet little endearment or _something_ like a kiss or a promise to call back, but this time he didn’t.”

“And what time was it over there?”

Alex grimaces, wishing that Luna didn’t have to be so fucking sensible about this. 

“Three,” he grumbles, “in the morning.”

Their little conversation is put on hold when a group of donors comes over to chat. Alex shifts his drink to the table behind him so he can shake their hands and gesture expansively as he talks about his plans for the Senate and the roadmap he’s created. By the time the donors leave, they’ve vowed donations to his fund and Alex has given them Nora’s information so they can arrange things.

Luna claps him on the back, dragging him back in. “Listen, you’ve been in a stable relationship longer than some friendships I’ve had,” he says. “You know Henry best, so I’m not gonna pretend that you’re making things up. I will say that being in the middle of a campaign can make people go stir-crazy, especially if they don’t have a grounding force with them.”

Alex knows that. He’s done it. He’d been that scattered, list-making, frantic teenager on his mother’s campaign trail. This time, he’s supposed to be in the driver’s seat.

“Henry has his own life, his own passion, and his own goals,” Alex says, the lump in his throat coming back. “Just like my parents.”

“I think that’s sweet,” Luna says, missing the point.

“Raf, my parents _split up_.” It’s that little fear in the back of his mind, wondering if their ambitions are leading them down opposing paths where it won’t matter how much they love each other. He knows it’s not the same as his parents, but they’re also the only real comparison he has to the situation he’s in. 

Henry’s never going to be a trophy husband, the same as Alex was never going to be okay sitting around playing royal consort. That’s not the kind of people they are.

“One bad phone call is not the end of your marriage, kid,” Luna vows, looking genuinely concerned that Alex thinks so. “Look, if you’re really worried, just think about that trip you’re taking. Within days, you’re gonna see Henry face to face and then you can stop running hypothetical scenarios in your head. I know it’s pointless telling you to think about something else until then, so I’m not going to. Instead, I want you channelling that energy to thinking about seeing him.”

Alex is grateful to Luna for giving him something that might actually work.

“Lucky for you, I know another trick,” he says, turning Alex’s shoulders towards a group of wealthy donors. “Distraction. I bet you that you can’t fleece those old donors out of a hundred thousand dollars for the Claremont-Diaz-And-A-Lot-Of-Other-Names-You-Don’t-Use ticket to the future.” 

The dare works. Alex’s eyes flash with the indignity of the idea that he _can’t_ , and then it’s the only thing that actually matters. 

“You’re on,” Alex says, discarding all worries about Henry as he puts on his charming smile and heads over to prove Luna wrong.

In the end, it turns out that he loses his own bet. He doesn’t fleece them for a hundred thousand dollars. He’s earned twice that, and it does the trick. It reminds Alex what he’s doing here, and just how _good_ he is at it. 

Soon, he’ll see Henry and he’ll stop worrying. For now, he’s got a job to do if he wants to be Senator and Alex isn’t ready to fail.

* * *

Campaign help arrives on a brisk January morning in the form of coffee and donuts in Nora’s arms. 

Alex is exhausted.

He just got in from his Christmas holidays overseas with Henry. It had been so good to be back with him, but something had still felt off. They talked about their families, they shopped all the Christmas markets, and spent a _fuckton_ of time, well...fucking. Every time work came up, though, on either of their sides, the subject changed swiftly. 

On his return to Texas, Alex had known that something was up, but he’s too wary to call Henry on it. 

“You’re a goddess,” Alex groans, grabbing the trenta sized coffee out of her hands. 

Nora beams as she digs into her tote. “You haven’t even seen my opposition research.”

Mouth full of a cruller, he reaches for it. “Gimme,” he mumbles, crumbs flying everywhere like he’s still that uncouth teenager instead of a grown man. Nora hands over the folder as only a true best friend can, ignoring every single hint of Alex’s awful manners on display. He knows that on the campaign trail, he’ll clean it up, but it’s not like Nora’s going to sell him out. 

“Where’s Henry? I brought his gift,” she says, holding up a wrapped box. 

Alex’s face falls, even though he really has no right to be disappointed. “Henry wanted to stay for the grand opening. It got pushed with the holidays, so they’re doing a glitzy January bash with all the local celebrities. Instagram kibble,” he insists. “With the project getting pushed back so many times, I couldn’t stick around, so Henry is still in Europe.” 

Nora makes a small considering noise, almost like she’s using her brain to calculate the probability of that being true. Eventually, she concedes, “I’ll leave it for him so he can open it when he’s back.” _When_ , she says, with absolutely no hint of worry that he might just never be back. 

He should’ve invited her around a lot sooner, and not just for polling data. Nora’s the exact kind of rational, logical, odds-calculating brain he needs around him while he’s spiralling completely out of control. 

“Do you want to dive right into your polling numbers? Or do you want to talk about why you sounded like a sad puppy when I said Henry’s name.”

Alex’s expression sours. “You’re not supposed to notice that.”

Nora gives him a dubious look. “I may not put Relationship Guru on my resume, but we dated long enough for me to know you and your moods, Alex Claremont-Diaz. So, come on. I’ll trade you.”

Alex gapes at her. “What?”

“You heard me. You fill me in on some of your personal life gossip and I’ll give you the polling numbers by district, but I get to decide just how juicy and poll-worthy something is.” 

She wouldn’t just walk out of here without giving him the information. Would she? Alex narrows his eyes at her, debating whether to call her on the bluff. Then, he remembers that it’s Nora, and yes, she would. Honestly, she’d probably call June and they’d be allies in it. Grumbling, Alex sprawls out over the couch, accepting his fate.

“Why are you like this?”

Nora gives him a look that says he should already know, but still, knowing and having it come back to bite him in the ass again is a complete other thing. 

“Do you think it’s weird that the entire time I saw him, we didn’t talk about my campaign once?”

It’s been at the back of his mind for a while since he got back. Honestly, Alex hadn’t even noticed until he picked up his research and realized that every time he started to talk about this, Henry would change the subject or he’d distract Alex with his mouth or his hands or all those other sinfully gorgeous parts of his body.

He’s ashamed to say it had worked -- a _lot_.

“Not entirely,” Nora replies. 

If she were June, she’d be ranting already about how callous Henry could be to not talk about this incredibly important thing in Alex’s life. It’s Nora, though, with her cool computer logic-brain, and that’s why Alex needs her. 

He needs to stop making truncated panic lists in his brain and listen to someone else’s advice. 

“Did you talk about his work?”

Alex shakes his head. “No,” he admits, because it hadn’t come up. They’d been busy spending time together to make up for all those weeks (months, really) apart. Then there had been friends, family, and awful holiday gifts to share. He’s pretty sure they spent two hours talking about Philip and Martha’s awful holiday card, both of them smug that theirs had put them to shame.

Then again, how do you beat a Freddie Mercury and David Bowie inspired holiday card?

“That means his lack of interest in your campaign on the trip was only because he wanted it to be personal, not business,” she says dismissively. Because Nora is still kind of his favorite person outside Henry (don’t tell June), she doesn’t stop there. “It is a bit strange for him to prolong his trip. I would’ve expected him back on the plane with you.”

“Right?” Alex exhales, feeling worried. “I’ve got enough worrying going on with this campaign, I can’t be worrying about Henry, too.”

Nora’s silent. It’s that silence Alex knows all too well. He’s. Well, he’s sure she’s got something to say.

“What?” he demands bluntly. 

“Did you think about the fact that your worry about fucking up your campaign might be feeding into the issue with you and Henry?”

He hasn’t. Mainly because while he’s an aggressively determined go-getter, sometimes he misses the things right in front of his face. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

“Your campaign is sucking up all your time and energy. Correct?” Alex nods, because you can see that from space. He’s pretty sure they’re on the International Space Station going, ‘wow, that Claremont-Diaz kid is stressed’, even if he’s really not a kid anymore. “Okay,” Nora continues. “So, you’re tired, you’re energy-drained, and you’re worried about your campaign. Have you ever been in a situation when you’ve put something above Henry, priority wise? Because usually he’s number one on your list, and Alex, I kind of think your senate campaign has become your baby. Not in a bad way! I love running the numbers for this,” she rushes to say.

“So, you think that Henry’s trying to give me space?”

“Maybe,” Nora admits. “It’s your marriage. I don’t have eight years with him to know the ins and outs of how you two work, but maybe you need to start working Henry back up to the top of your list, then you’ll see there was nothing to worry about in the first place.” 

“So I…” He trails off, because Nora’s smarter than him, and he wants her to fill in the blanks.

“You talk to him, dummy,” Nora says, rolling her eyes affectionately. Shoving at his side, she curls up next to him on the couch. “Okay, you’ve earned polling numbers,” she announces, “and I have very good news about your numbers for the primary against your other candidates.”

His mind is on the numbers as Nora takes him through districts, demographics, and data. It is, he swears it is.

It’s just also working the other problem in his head, making an abbreviated list that starts and ends with one single task: _Talk to Henry and make sure he knows Alex still loves him more than politics._

He can do that. It’s easy because it’s true. He’s just kind of pissed off at himself that he hasn’t been so good at the showing and telling, but he’ll get there. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them and Alex can’t wait until he’s a Senator and can finally do some good. 

With Henry at his side, there’ll be no stopping them, so it means fixing whatever mess he’s created so they can get there.


	2. Chapter 2

> **Blessed are the homesick**
> 
> **A** agcd@diaz28.com  
>  to Henry
> 
> I know I’m not a writer the way you are, so this email is probably going to suck compared to what you could have written. I also know that you and I are a little burned on email and we usually save this for phone calls, but it’s three in the morning and I have to get this out.
> 
> I’ve been neglecting you. I know that our lives are in different places now than they were eight years ago, but that shouldn’t be an excuse. We managed to do things when I was busy with my first job at the firm, we survived Bea’s courtship with Prince Alexei, and even that time I was no longer Teen Vogue material. My love for you hasn’t changed and it’s still there, but I think with the distance and our priorities changing, I don’t spend enough time telling you.
> 
> I love you, Henry.
> 
> When things cut to the core, that’s the way this slices. I fell in love with you before I even realized what falling felt like, and by the time I crashed into you, I was so stupidly gone that I didn’t even know how to put it into words. You kissed me on that snowy night and changed my world, and it’s been better ever since.
> 
> In fact, it’s been the best I could have ever expected.
> 
> Baby, if something is wrong, tell me. Please. That’s all I can ask. I’m going to try my best to make time for you and I just want you to do the same.
> 
> Yrs (always, forever, permanently, inconsolably yrs),  
>  Alex

Once the email is sent, Alex shuts down his laptop. He’d meant what he said in the email. Those early days (and the ensuing scandal) had left them somewhat burned away from writing romantic emails to each other. It’s worth the risk of the emails leaking, because with the time difference between them and their insane schedules, Alex isn’t sure what other options they have.

Let them know that Alex loves and adores his husband. They’ve been through this before, they can’t hurt him again with the same weapon.

What scares Alex is the thought that a brand new enemy might be lurking out there, undoing the seams of their relationship without him even realizing what’s happening. Nothing _should_ be wrong, but the problem is that although they’re sticking to the same script as always, the lines are right, but the emotion is wrong.

It feels like something is...not missing.

Hidden, Alex thinks.

It’s like there’s something that Henry’s not saying.

Right now, the scarier thing for him is that he doesn’t have anyone he can call because that will only make it real. Worse, what if the stress of the campaign has gotten to him and there really isn’t anything wrong at all?

Is Alex really willing to go nuclear when he doesn’t have all the facts?

He’s not. That’s the truth of it.

There’s no list to make, because this isn’t in Alex’s hands. Whatever is going on with Henry, Alex is going to have to trust in his husband to come to him if it gets to be too much. Pressing and pushing and poking at this wound will only let it bleed a little more and that’s not something that Alex is willing to do.

It’s time for the self-proclaimed king of control to abandon it and hope that Henry will come to him before it’s too late.

He’s not sleeping well these days and there are a bunch of excuses for it, but it means he’s awake for the text that comes in at five in the morning from Henry.

> **HRHotness** : Read your email, and I’m very blessed if your subject line is any indication. I miss you as well and I have never doubted your love for me, even when I doubted myself. I hope to see you very soon. Please get some rest. I know the hour is ridiculous and you’re probably up reading this.  
>   
>  **HRHotness** : I mean it, Alex. Bed, now. I’ll even send you a picture to encourage you.

Blessed is Alex’s husband, because he does exactly that and it quiets all his fears.

* * *

“I ask this of you lovingly,” Alex says to June, walking into the hotel ballroom, “but did you leave a single blue balloon in the rest of Texas?” It looks like every one in the state’s existence has been packed into this one room, adorning the walls, the ceiling, and the tables. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was the world’s largest baby shower.

June smiles warmly at him. “You’re welcome,” she sing-songs, like he hadn’t just questioned her aesthetic choices. “Did you not want a dramatic announcement of your campaign now that you’re the chosen candidate?”

Scowling, Alex has to admit that he does want this to be as splashy and loud as possible. He wants to make waves, the same way his mother did, even if he’s been beat on a lot of counts when it comes to “Firsts” in the Senate, but he’s still gunning for “Youngest”.

He can’t lie. Standing here with the nomination makes him feel alive.

He tries to contrast this to other times in his life, but there’s only two events that even come close. One happens to be his Mom’s re-election, and the other is Henry kissing him under the linden tree. Both events made his heart drop and his stomach explode into a pack of butterflies, but this time, he’s even prouder.

Alex made this happen. This is his _future_.

He eyes it with the bright shiny eyes of youth, wishing that Henry could have managed to make it out here in time to see this. June promised to chronicle each and every moment as she shares it through her Instagram and within the private group chat, though, so he won’t miss it entirely.

“Nervous?” June asks, squeezing his shoulder.

“With the acceptance speech you wrote for me? Never. I’m already planning for a bump in the polls.”

“Don’t forget to get misty-eyed in the last paragraph,” she advises. “People love it when you get emotional about who you are and where you came from.”

He rolls his eyes, grateful as always for the help that she’s giving him, but there are some old sibling habits that will never vanish. “I’m not an actor,” he scoffs. “I’m going to read the words and _if_ I get misty-eyed, then we all win.”

“You’ll cry,” Nora says as she passes with _another_ balloon arch. “My money is on the part where you talk about how you were willing to sacrifice everything for Henry and how you’re willing to do that for these people.”

Something _almost_ clicks in his head. It’s a little voice that asks him, _are you about to sacrifice Henry for them?_

It doesn't land.

Alex is too busy watching the teleprompter glitching, which sends him into a full-blown panic. “Someone!” he shouts. “Anyone! Technology help!” If they don’t stop him, Alex is going to launch himself at the system and start yanking out wires until he can make it work again, so it’s a good thing he’s pulled off it.

June is eyeing him like he’s grown a second head, but she wisely says nothing about his nerves. Nora, of course, isn’t so kind.

“Do not fuck this up,” she hisses at him. “I just finished my polling numbers and they depend on you giving a stellar performance tonight.”

It’s, weirdly, exactly what he needs.

Alex lets his handlers push him backstage so he can pace in privacy behind the thick curtains while people fill up the hall. He mentally recites the speech, hitting some of the more salient points out loud. He doesn’t check his phone, but only because he’s given it to June to keep it safely hidden from him.

The last thing he needs right now is to call Henry and get distracted.

Laser-focus, one goal, and he’s full steam ahead.

“...proud to give you your candidate, former First Son of the United States! Alex Claremont-Diaz-Fox!”

It’s a concession to use one of Henry’s names, but it had also tested incredibly well. Even his detractors can’t help being a little awed and impressed by Henry, and the focus groups had been clear that Alex should trot out the name when he could.

“You’re on, superstar,” June whispers, beaming at him with pride. “I know you’re gonna rock this.”

“Thanks,” Alex says, feeling full of confidence, “I know it too.”

Every time Alex steps out on a stage like this, he’s always surprised by the lights. His skin prickles with warmth, sweat beads at his temples, and he feels like the sun is shining just for him. Tonight, accepting this nomination, he thinks it is.

He sticks to June’s speech word for word. The teleprompter runs smoothly, all the earlier glitches gone, and when he looks out into the bright light masking the audience, Alex sees the hope in it, like the sun rising on another beautiful day. The speech, top to toe, runs eighteen minutes.

By the end, Alex feels like he’s run a marathon.

Heart pumping wildly, he gives Texas his love, blowing an enthusiastic kiss as he promises plenty more speeches like it in the weeks to come. It went well. It went _so well_.

The crowd likes him. It’s not like he’d been expecting protests (not yet, at least), but the overwhelming din of applause is overwhelming in a brand new way because this time, it’s for _him_. He takes a moment to catch his breath, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses, praying and hoping for votes as he departs the stage.

Obviously, it’s early in the campaign, but he still wants to believe that tonight’s outing has impressed at least a few people sitting on the fence.

“Sir,” one of the agents says as soon as he’s made it to the wings of the stage, hand on his elbow. “Your car is ready.”

“Thanks, Simmons,” Alex praises, letting the team hustle him into the waiting town car. He’s nudged into the back seat. Ducking his head down, he sees a pair of wingtips. Someone is already in the car. Alarmed, Alex turns to call in the threat when he hears the most beautiful voice in the world.

“You are a vision in a three piece suit.”

_Henry_.

Alex shuts up and crawls into the backseat to see more than just a pair of shiny shoes. Henry looks impeccable in a striped suit and leather driving gloves (which Alex is _convinced_ he’s only wearing because he knows they get him going). Alex jams the divider up to give them some privacy before he tackles his husband, grabbing his neck as he pins him to the seats with kisses, until they’re both laughing and squirming.

“This is wildly unsafe,” Henry protests. “We’re in a moving vehicle, at least put your seatbelt on.”

“I can’t make out with you and wear a seatbelt.”

“Then we’ll wait to make out, so if there is an accident, I don’t have to face my grandmother with a face full of asphalt pebbles. Concrete? Something unflattering, surely.”

“I missed you,” Alex breathes out, cupping his husband’s face as he sits up to put his seatbelt on. Safety first, after all. “I thought you weren’t able to come home until tomorrow. What changed?”

Henry’s attempts at speech are currently being ruined by Alex’s attempts to kiss him into silence, but finally Henry laughs with delight and pushes him away gently, forcefully buckling Alex in since he won’t do it for himself. “I tried to be here earlier for your acceptance speech, but I got caught in _traffic_. Can you believe that?” he complains sharply. “I should have texted June. I’m sure she would have come up with some impossible way to make the problem vanish.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters,” Alex promises, petting Henry’s beautiful shirt and tie with his palm. “It went really well, baby.”

“You have an adoring public now?”

Alex manages to get his fingers inside the seams of Henry’s shirt, playing just beneath the buttons until he’s brushing warm skin that he’s missed so much. “ _We_ have an adoring public.”

“Oh, I’ve already got one,” Henry says, scrunching up his nose in a way that is absolutely adorable, as much as it pains Alex to say. “Do you think they’ll let me return this new one?”

“Asshole,” Alex accuses.

“Darling,” is Henry’s retort.

That’s _beyond_ unfair.

Alex will let it slide. He’s thrilled as fuck that Henry is here with him, using endearments that make him melt. He’s missed him so much and he’s been so desperate to have him in his arms again. Relieved past words, Alex discovers that things feel like they’ve settled again and they’re right.

All it’s taken is Henry’s return.

He’s in the middle of kissing a path up Henry’s neck when he breathes in sharply, the scent of grease overwhelming his nostrils. Backing away, his eyes widened with hope. “Henry, is that…?”

“I should be relieved you acknowledged me first, shouldn’t I?” He leans over to lift up the bag from The Burger Joint, which Alex had spent a whole email raving to Henry about when he’d first turned up in Houston.

“Gimme,” he demands, glad his adoring public can’t see him now.

Henry holds the bag out of reach with those insufferably gorgeous and lean arms of his. “Say please,” he demands smugly.

“Give it to me now or I’ll post that picture of you with you wearing that pink feather boa and June’s smudged lipstick on your cheek,” Alex presents his counter-offer, straining to get the bag. Now that he’s smelled it, he wants the fries inside more than he wants anything in the world.

Henry seems like he’s considering it, but there’s one sticky wicket that’s going to prevent this from being a negotiation that goes in Henry’s favor. That point being, of course, that Henry adores Alex and he’s willing to give him anything.

(So close, Alex, you’re so close, if only his mind could make that connection and understand that strange off-kilter feeling in their marriage)

The teasing smile on Henry’s face melts and he hands the bag over. “It’s not the picture that I’m worried about,” he clarifies, as if he wants it known. “The lipstick and the boa were perfectly acceptable.” He steals one of Alex’s fries, despite his protests. “The up-angle was _not_.” He leans over to bite the fry Alex is holding out for him, stupidly charmed by this smug, arrogant, dickhead even after eight years together.

“I love you,” he says out loud, knowing he’s breaking the pattern of their usual banter, but it needs to be said.

He’s riding a high unlike one he’s felt since his Mom got re-elected. His campaign is off, the speech went well, and Henry is unexpectedly home early. It’s the best thing in the world.

Leaning into Henry’s side, he closes his eyes to just enjoy this moment for as long as he can.

“I love you too,” Henry promises, kissing the top of his head and ensuring that all is right with Alex’s world.

* * *

“Did you hear the son of a bitch? My _lifestyle_?” Alex rants, so angry that he may have forgotten how to undo a Windsor knot. He keeps yanking and pulling and tugging at it, but it’s not giving way.

Finally, Henry rolls off the bed and pads over to help him with it, his long fingers gracefully loosening the tie for Alex so he can yank it off and wave it around like a red flag calling his people to war. “I heard him,” Henry hums, a ‘yes dear’ if Alex ever heard it.

“He thinks I’m going to ruin children because I love you,” Alex spits out, spiteful as hell.

It’s the first time that Alex has had to face his opponent, Mark Matthews -- a boring name for a boring asshole. Their first debate had gone well, according to Nora, who’s already sent him articles stating that he’d won with his calm demeanor and cuttingly sharp policy knowledge, but Alex is riled and he can finally take it out on someone.

Not that Henry deserves this, but Alex needs to get it out before it consumes him.

“He’s an idiot, dear,” Henry says calmly, draping the tie over the changing screen.

Alex sighs. He starts to work his fingers down the line of buttons as Henry returns to the bed, picking up his book. It’s clear he wants this conversation to be over, but Alex’s brain doesn’t work like that. Until he’s dissected his anger and fury, he’s not shutting up. “Did you _hear_ his position on climate change? How do you not believe in it? It’s literally almost the 20-fucking-30’s, how do you _still_ not get that the world is in danger?”

Henry peers up from his book, hand hovering on his bookmark as if he’s deciding whether he should mark his place.

“Fuck!” Alex growls, thinking about Matthews’ off-hand snide remark about his mother. “The fact that he had the gall to go after Mom’s policies just because he thinks polar bears are happy to go extinct…”

This goes on for a while. Henry’s learned to listen and help him out by making snide and sharply funny comments of his own, but he doesn’t. Alex doesn’t really care at the start. It’s American politics at the state level and despite the many lessons he’s tried to give Henry over the years, he knows it’s a lot to take in.

The thing is, Henry also doesn’t start complaining about anything.

That’s weird.

Usually there’ll be something that Philip has been doing lately to bug him or another ‘my grandmother’ story that always makes Alex forget she’s the Queen. This time, Alex makes it all the way through complaints about Matthews’ followers sending him hate-tweets because he’s married to a man, denying in the debate that systemic racism is still a problem they need to solve, and even insulting Alex’s shoes.

Nothing.

When Henry’s quiet _this_ long, it usually means he has something to say. The thing is, Henry’s not usually afraid to pipe in, so whatever it is he’s biting back is big.

Anxiety and dread rushes over Alex, and suddenly he feels a little lightheaded.

“Henry? What?” he pleads, voice even.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” he says, working the bedspread with his fingers. “Alex, I have to leave again.” His brow furrows. “No, I need to be honest. I don’t _need_ to be there, but I want to be. There’s no requirement stipulating I go, but right now, I want to be there with one of my centers doing the work rather than here. I want to be with you,” he vows. “That’s not in doubt, but your campaign is…”

Alex sets his jaw, seeing all his worries from the last few months manifesting.

“Say it.”

“It’s a bit much for me,” he admits.

Alex knows he could say something rash and cutting. He could bite back and demand to know whether Henry is ignoring how becoming prince consort had been a _lot_ for him, but if he opens his mouth and says any of those things, there’ll be no coming back. He endures the cold flush, the panic in his chest, and his anger.

When he does speak, it’s measured and calm. “You supported my bid for Senate. We talked about this for years, while I was working at the law firm.”

“We did! I know we did,” Henry protests, flustered. “Alex, I love you. I love your passion, I love what you’re doing, and I support you. I do. I need to surround myself in my work a little longer. Do you understand me?”

Alex nods, even if he’s not entirely sure he does.

“How long?” he asks numbly.

“I was thinking no longer than a five day trip to do a grand opening event for the new location in Los Angeles?” He phrases it like a question so Alex can say no if he wants to, and it’s sweet and infuriating at exactly the same time. “I’d be back in time for your next event, I would never jeopardize your career.”

Alex nods, even if he feels like he’s been wounded. “What are we saying here, Henry?”

“I’m saying that I love you and I will support you,” Henry speaks so calmly that Alex kind of wants to throttle him. If there’s anything he should be freaking out about, it’s this. “I will be there for every event. I will support your Senate bid, and your inevitable Presidential one, if that’s how this path goes. I will stand by your side.”

“But it’ll make you, what, miserable?”

Henry is silent just a fucking moment too long.

Then, he shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to come to terms with being the husband of an American politician. You did far more for me,” he admits. “The First Son was a temporary role. The second born Prince of England is not, and I’m aware of that. I suppose I’m adjusting, that’s all.”

And he’s _miserable_ , Alex hasn’t missed out on that little truth.

“I think I might take a walk,” Henry admits, pushing to his feet to grab his coat. “I could use the time to clear my head, and I think it might help you too.”

It’s so tempting to bite back at Henry by demanding he not tell Alex what he wants, but he takes a deep breath to remind himself that snapping at him will do nothing. Henry wants to support him, they’re still in love, it’s just that what Alex wants for the future isn’t one that Henry feels he fits into yet.

That’s not forever, is what he tells himself.

Numb, Alex nods, mumbling ‘okay’. Henry presses a lingering kiss to Alex’s cheek before he grabs his sneakers, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts.

Fuck, he hates those. It’s why, when Henry’s only been gone for five minutes. Alex picks up the phone. Honestly, he’s pretty proud that he hadn’t called June within five seconds of him leaving.

She hasn’t even said ‘hello’ before Alex speaks. “Something’s wrong.”

“What? Alex, _what_?” She’s in a panic, and he feels bad instantly for not being more clear what the problem is. “Did someone release a bullshit story? Do I need to get the lawyers involved, should I call Mom?”

“Fuck no!” Alex yelps. “It’s not a campaign problem.” He sinks down into the couch, hand on Ziggy’s fur. “It’s a…” Why is it so hard to say this out loud? “It’s a marriage problem.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There’s another long silence. “I’m not exactly a marriage expert.”

“Other than Bea, you’re the best Henry one I’ve got, though.” Alex takes in a deep breath. “He’s overwhelmed by my campaign.”

There’s a simmering silence on the line where Alex can hear June breathing. “Do I have to be nice right now?”

“June, come on.”

“No, it’s what you want! It’s your passion, your dream, your future. You and Henry talked about this, you both agreed to it! He’s not telling you to stop, is he?”

“God,” Alex yelps, “No! June, he still supports me and he wants me to do this, he just needs time to process what the reality of me doing this is,” he says. “I guess I get it, a little. When Mom and Dad were first dragging us into politics when we were kids, it was hard. We’ve had years and years to figure it out. I was working at a law firm, we had some kind of normalcy. At least, for us,” Alex confesses. “This is new to him. I just don’t want to lose him, June.”

“Did he say he might go?”

“No,” Alex says, which is worse. “He said he’d stick by me and support me, but what if he starts to resent me? What if no matter how hard we try, we end up like Mom and Dad anyway?”

“Alex,” June exhales. “Hey, you know that’s not going to happen to the two of you. He won’t leave you. You won’t leave him. I might not have a crystal ball, but I am _very_ good at judging things and I just don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Alex rubs at his cheek, staring numbly at Ziggy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” June agrees. “Call Nora and she’ll quote you some figures. I’m not saying that things won’t get bumpy, but it’s you and Henry. You’re end game.”

Alex closes his eyes and repeats those words to himself. They’re end game. They’ve made it. Henry’s clearing his head and he needs time to adjust, but that’s it. That’s all. It’s not Alex’s problem, it’s Henry’s, and he’s dealing with it.

When Alex still has yet to say anything else, he hears rustling on the other end of the line. “You’re so lucky I’m in town,” June says. “Stay put. I’m coming by with reinforcements. Seeing as the last thing we need is you getting in deep shit for smoking a joint, we’ll stick to ice cream and chick flicks. Henry can adjust all he likes, you and I are watching Legally Blonde.”

It’s exactly what he needs, without even realizing he did. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course I do,” June says smugly. “Now, stay put. I’m inbound in thirty minutes and by tomorrow, I’ll have you feeling back to normal. I promise.”

From June, that means something. She doesn’t make those lightly.

For a little while, everything is fine. June fulfills her promise and comes over with movies and ice cream in hand. Henry even joins them halfway through the movie when he comes back and Alex delights in being able to curl into his side. The next few days are fine, too, even if Henry’s upcoming trip looms over him like a bad dream come to life.

Then, all hell breaks loose and reminds Alex that he can ignore it all he likes, but the problem isn’t going away.

That comes courtesy of a pounding at the door at nearly two in the morning.

Alex rubs his eyes, fumbling for his glasses and running through a few mental leaps to get him to alertness. He’s in Houston, the debate was last week, Henry’s out with Pez because he’s in town and is expected to stay the night in a lavish downtown hotel. So who’s at the door and why are they knocking like that? His security team would have flagged any threats, which means someone probably just forgot a key.

“Alexander,” comes Pez’s voice. “Please open the door. I have your sloppy drunk husband in my arms and he is far too heavy for me to do this for much longer.”

Alarmed, Alex vaults out of bed, knocking his knee against the nightstand. Hopping and cursing towards the front door, he’s half-bent over and clutching his knee when he opens the door to see Henry’s lean body sprawled all over Pez’s back.

“There he is,” Henry slurs, clearly drunk.

Pez sets him on his feet, but he takes two steps and begins to stumble again. Alex rushes forward to prevent him from collapsing on his face, giving Pez an appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he says. “Did anyone see him like this?”

“No tabloids, I’m happy to report. We were at a little restaurant in a private room, we snuck him out the back.”

Alex feels guilty for feeling relieved. He tells himself it’s because Henry doesn’t deserve the tabloids dragging him through the mud, but he has to acknowledge that part of it is because he doesn’t want his campaign to hit a speedbump because Henry got caught being drunk and miserable in public.

“How much did he have to drink?” Alex wonders, as Henry’s limbs flop around clumsily, nearly smacking Alex in the face. Pez has vanished into the kitchen, returning with one of the bottles of water from the fridge, pressing it into Henry’s hands (where he’s been guided to the sofa, face smushed into the cushions and his limbs sprawled out).

“Red wine is a devil,” Pez says knowingly. “Now, your man is home, and I heard a reliable rumor that your sister is in town.” He makes a gesture to the door, which Alex interprets as his asking for permission to go.

Alex nods, knowing that he prefers to weather drunk Henry all on his own. “Be nice to my sister!”

“Until she’s agreed to my proposals, there will only be obstinate determination!” Pez shouts in reply, closing the door behind him.

It leaves Alex without any other distractions.

There’s him. There’s Henry. There’s the smell of booze on Henry’s breath. There’s the pinched look on his face he’s had for days. He looks _miserable_ and Alex hates it. He crawls onto the couch, where he and Pez had put Henry, brushing the pad of his thumb over the worry line in Henry’s forehead.

“Henry,” Alex whispers, pained. “Is it that bad?”

He’d thought that this would be a crisis they faced down the line, with Henry’s love and belief in Alex eroding. This is a danger sign so much closer than he’d expected.

“I always knew that this would one day be the future,” Henry admits, sipping the bottle of cool water. “You’ve dreamed of being a politician, the same as I’ve wanted to give back to kids that suffered from not being able to be who they are. Only, now that it’s reality, I find myself...chafing against what’s coming. I know I said I needed to adjust. I still do! It’s not that I’m clinging to my identity as a prince, but a politician’s husband is something I’m not entirely sure I want to define me either. I’m not going to stop you, I’m going to support you, but I’m struggling, Alex, I can’t hide that.”

Alex feels something bubbling in him that he suspects is irritation and anger. Their mini-argument earlier has set the stage for this. “You’re not a fucking trophy husband just because I’m running for Senate.”

“Alex,” Henry pleads. “Alex, no,” he whispers. “I know your country, though. My team has done immeasurable research on what it means. We might be one of the world’s most famous couples, but people will still expect me at your side at events. They will want me to be the doting husband and partner and I am,” he vows.

“Then what?” Alex is lost.

“That’s not all I am.”

“I never said you were!”

“And you’re not the problem! You never were, you never will be!” There’s Henry’s anger. Drunk, it comes out like an elastic snapping. His cheeks are flush and his eyes are wild, desperate. “I love you beyond words and measure. Alex,” he pleads, grasping his face. “I will never abandon your dreams. Can’t you see that I can support you and love you and still struggle?”

Alex can. He’s furious, because he can.

“I…”

He doesn’t know what to do. He definitely doesn’t know what to say. Henry’s going to stay by his side no matter what, even if it hurts a part of him and makes him feel like less. Why does that hurt so fucking much? Maybe it’s because Alex never wants to make Henry hurt like this, so to have it be that his ambitions are the thing doing it is painful.

Because he doesn’t want to back down. Worse, he thinks Henry would never let him.

He collapses onto the couch beside Henry, taking his hand into Alex’s and threading their fingers together. Right now, speechless, he needs that touch and warmth more than anything else, still overwhelmed by what he’s feeling.

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Alex finally whispers, feeling like his voice has been scraped raw.

Henry’s smile is drunken, soppy, and still so adorable. “Welcome to my world.”

Alex burrows into Henry’s side, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch so he can cocoon them in. Maybe down here, all the rest of the problems in their world will vanish. “Hey,” he says, peering up from his slightly lower position (because Henry is slightly taller, _slightly_ ). “I love you. Okay? I love you so much, you’re still my forever.”

That seems to give Henry some relief in the way he smiles at him, so that’s one weight lifted off of Alex’s chest.

“I haven’t doubted that, not ever. I’d know if you stopped loving me.”

“Hm? How?”

“The passion would evaporate,” Henry says, fingers rolling on an invisible wave as he tries to physically demonstrate what it is he means. “You’re still here. Passionate. Furious. Stubborn. Mine.” He exhales, and Alex smells the pungent scent of red wine on his breath. “I don’t want to be swept up in it. I don’t want to trade one prison of duty for another,” he mumbles into Alex’s shoulder when he buries his face against Alex’s pajama shirt.

“I know, baby,” Alex soothes, even if his brow is furrowed and he absolutely does _not_ know what to do about this.

In the absence of steadiness and a plan, Alex opts for the next best thing. He holds Henry painfully tight, as if he won’t vanish if Alex doesn’t let go. This isn’t supposed to be their life, even if their life has never been predictable.

If there’s one thing they excel at, it’s complications.

“Please,” Alex mumbles, “please, don’t leave me.”

Henry doesn’t respond because he’s out like a light. His fears have been spoken, and Alex has got to hope that maybe the universe owes him one more time. He got the career, he got the husband, but now he’s hoping for a future that has both.

Maybe it’s impossible, but years ago, he watched Texas go blue, so maybe it’s not entirely out of the question. Maybe, the truth is that nothing is impossible. He just needs to figure it out.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been days since Henry went back to London for business, the bombshell of his feelings making it clear how uncertain he feels about their future. It’s obvious that Henry isn’t sure how he feels and that’s the problem. He’s always been sure about Alex, even if he’s made some bad choices about him. 

Henry feeling like a part of him is going to change forever because of him? That’s bad. That’s panic-level bad, and there aren’t enough lists in the world to make Alex feel better.

There is, however, one person that he wants right now who can provide him with the steady comfort that only she can.

Luckily, she’s nearby. 

The Ellen Claremont Presidential Library is a stunning architectural feat in downtown Austin. She’d been adamant that she wanted it here, as a point of pride despite not carrying the state in the first election. Not for the first time, Alex is fiercely glad for how things turned out the second time around. 

True, his heart is still thumping arrhythmically for how close it had been, but it means so much to him that Texas gave her another four years.

The library hasn’t opened yet, mainly because it took his Mom years just to pick the right architect (a young up and coming Latina professional from Houston), and now she’s trying to make sure all the details are perfect. He travels from Houston to Austin, knowing that if he wants to talk to her, it’s here that he’ll find her. 

It’s not long before he does, seeing her taking a tour with the on-site manager. 

“Enough skylights?” Alex calls out to her, hoping that his voice sounds light and warm. 

She’s going to know better, but he hopes she’ll play along for at least a few minutes before she delves into what’s going on. “Give me a second, Andy?” she asks the man walking with her, who nods and walks away.

Alex grins as she closes the distance between them for a bone-breaking hug. “You didn’t tell me you were in town, I would have cleared my schedule.”

“I mean, I’m not, not really,” Alex admits. “I’m still in Houston.”

“Which is two and a half hours away.”

Yup. It sure is. Alex has had so many conversations with himself during the drive. 

“Alex,” she says calmly. “What happened?”

It’s like the floodgates break loose. He doesn’t mean to completely collapse, but she’s still hugging him and she’s his _Mom_ right now and not a former President. He’s an adult with a home and a husband and a Senate campaign, but he still lets her hold him as he drags in a shuddering, scared breath.

He tells her everything.

The campaign launch, the debates, the polls. 

Henry, his fear, his worry about a political cage, the doubt.

By the time he’s done, it’s a miracle Alex hasn’t broken into frustrated tears, but Ellen Claremont holds him the whole time, even with Alex towering over her. “I don’t want to lose him,” is at the core of his distress. 

“He’s told you that he’s not going. Why are you turning this molehill into a mountain?”

“Because I know Henry,” Alex insists. Why doesn’t anyone else see this? Why is he the only one preaching the future to deaf ears? He really never wanted to be Cassandra for the modern day, but it feels like he is. 

“You know Henry? Or you know you?” his mother asks him sharply. 

Both, he thinks. He knows that once he starts down this path, he’s not going to want to get off it. He knows there will be events where he’ll have requests to make of Henry that he won’t necessarily love. He knows that the road ahead isn’t perfectly lined. Maybe he knows himself and what he’s embarking on more than Henry does, and that’s why he’s scared.

“What do I do?” he asks. That’s what he’s here for. 

Motherly advice, presidential advice, he doesn’t care what kind it is, so long as he’s getting some advice.

In response, she’s silent.

“Mom!” Alex protests. 

“No, don’t rush me,” she counters. “I’m thinking about it. I’m trying to treat this like a real issue and not some teenage angst coming fifteen years too late.” 

Alex scowls at the implication that he’s being dramatic, but he guesses that he’s grateful that she’s paying attention to him. 

Finally, she lets her folded hands fall to her center of gravity, looking at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know.”

That’s really not what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Mom,” Alex pleads. 

“I can’t help thinking that I’m not the person whose advice you should be seeking. Kiddo, I hate to tell you this, but you got yourself in one hell of a unique pickle of a situation,” she drawls, shaking her head. “What I know is that your father and I had wildly different ambitions in the same arena. That’s not you and Henry. If that’s scaring you, then stop it.”

Easier said than done, when his anxiety has kicked up to eleven.

“I need to think about this,” she says.

“You’ve _been_ thinking about it!” It’s definitely an overblown reaction, given she’s had all of a few minutes to do her thinking.

“This isn’t your first bombshell, Alex Claremont-Diaz, and I didn’t guide you wrong before, did I?”

He shakes his head, grudgingly able to admit that she’s the reason he’s got Henry. If not for her, he never even would have met him -- _and_ she’s the one who made him consider forever and everything Henry means to him.

So maybe he owes her a little slack.

“From the sounds of it, you’re at an impasse because Henry loves you and wants to support you, but he’s conflicted about how his life goes from here. You’re conflicted because you think that despite his proclamations of love, he’s going to resent you one day. Have I got that right?” 

Alex nods, because the summary sounds accurate and frustrating.

It would be so much easier if Henry genuinely hated Alex’s career choice. He hates feeling like a drag-down fight would be better than _this_.

“Okay,” she says, neutral. “In that case, I’m taking you out for dinner, seeing as I’m not letting my son drive all the way to Austin for mediocre advice only to turn around and go home. Then, I’m going to think this over and send you a recommendation.”

Who can say no to enchiladas followed by sticky sweet churros fresh from the deep fryer?

Not Alex, that’s who.

She’s good to him during dinner, not talking about Henry or politics at all. They talk about how she’s adjusting to life after the presidency, her book deal (and how June keeps sending notes, which is something he can tell she’s both proud and annoyed with given the frequency of them), and they talk about Alex and Henry’s dog.

“You know,” he says, while she’s paying the bill, “we really don’t need to resort to talking about the weather. I can talk about Henry,” he vows, even if he’s aware that it would be a slippery slope. 

She reaches over to squeeze his hand in reassurance. “No need,” she promises. “I’m sending you home and I’ll send you an email later tonight, once I’ve had time to think about what’s going on.”

“Say hi to Leo for me?” Alex says, hoping that he and Henry will figure out how to be more like his mother and Leo and not his parents. He’s never seen Leo as less-than or somehow as giving up on his own life. Maybe he’s just imprinted on a bad example and can’t let it go.

Either way, he feels a little better, if only to get the problem off his chest.

“I will,” she promises, kissing his cheek. “Keep an eye on your email. Once I have some time to think, I’ll send something over,” she promises.

He’d just been hoping for a phone call and some advice.

Yet, is Alex truly surprised that she intends to put together a thoroughly researched argument to give him advice? It’s a hallmark of her character and probably something he inherited.

“I will,” he vows. “I love you, Mom.”

She hugs him so tightly that it hurts, but it’s exactly what he needs. Alex isn’t ashamed to say he holds on a little longer, clinging to this port in a storm. Whatever advice she gives to him will be crucial, because he respects her opinion and her thoughts above almost all others.

Alex just hopes it’s going to keep a path forward open. 

He tries to turn his brain off during the drive back to Houston, but it’s basically impossible. He’s not surprised. He does manage to keep himself from spiralling down into a pit of anxiety by focusing on the smaller details.

If he wins, he’ll want to move closer to Washington for the first term. 

If he loses, then he and Henry should go on vacation for a while.

If he wins, if he loses, if he wins, if he loses, if he loses Henry, if he wins the seat…

“Stop it,” he snaps at himself, staring stubbornly in the rearview mirror. “Not fucking helping,” he warns. He takes a steady breath in and focuses on his busy slate of media appearances over the next few weeks.

The election looms over his head. He can’t let the result scare him out of doing what it takes to win it. Shifting his mind to think of those things helps to calm him down, if only because it takes his anxiety and repositions it to something that might actually be productive. 

It’s good. It’s what he needs. 

Arriving home to a quiet house is still really fucking weird, no matter how many business trips Henry takes (even before Alex realized something was up), but he hangs up his jacket and settles in with a coffee, knowing he’s already not going to get any sleep.

He might as well make the lack of sleep a sure thing.

He’s been home for all of five minutes when he gets a notification ping. It’s an email from his mother. Alex frowns, having not expected anything so soon (which makes him wonder if she had this ready to go). 

He settles onto the couch with his laptop so he can open the _gigantic_ email, which has a Powerpoint presentation attached.

It’s titled ‘myidiotson.ppt’ and the first slide reads: _He’s forever. Act like it._

This isn’t his Mom’s usual style. The next few slides are nothing but pictures of Alex and Henry together, but she’s still making a concise point. They love each other. If nothing else, Alex can see that plain as day in the pictures and the way they look at each other. If this is her recommendation, then it’s clear on one thing -- she wants to remind Alex of how much he’s got.

From there, the slides go on to detail other high-profile couples throughout history and how Alex becoming a Senator doesn’t mean that Henry is going to melt into political requirements. She also makes sure to drive home the point that Alex has his own work cut out for him to make sure that Henry gets to pursue his own dreams and ambitions, no matter what that might cost his career. 

He can have both, that’s the point. It won’t be easy and he’ll have to make some compromises along the way, but he can do it.

Maybe, after eight years of loving Henry as easy as breathing, he’s just surprised to come up against something that doesn’t come so naturally. His mother’s well-compiled powerpoint just reminded him what’s in the game and worth playing for, which Alex appreciates having it put into view like that. This gives him a strategy, it gives him an outcome, and even a blueprint of how to get there. 

Now, it’s his turn to figure this out.

* * *

Those plans of Alex gain a lot more immediacy _very_ quickly after his trip to see his mother. 

It’s clear things are only getting more strained. Henry’s texts are getting briefer. June is getting mad at him. His parents keep trying, alternately, to give him marriage advice while looking sheepish about giving it given their own history.

He needs a list.

He needs a plan.

One. He wants to be a Senator more than anything. He’s already compromised on being the youngest Congressman in history, on the provision that he got to love Henry and make some history of their own.

Fine. Check. Perfect.

Two. He adores Henry and that decision he made about forever all those years ago hasn’t changed. 

Three. He knows that he doesn’t expect Henry to be a political wife, no matter what the media might say. 

Three points in and he’s already feeling a little steadier, but he doesn’t feel like he can go to Henry with this. The list is great, but Alex needs to move on from stating facts. How does this work? He writes that down, circling it, underlining it, and even highlighting the words. 

Four. He and Henry can work to agree on a specific number of campaign events that he’ll be present at and Alex will make it clear to the press that his husband is his own man. 

Good. Better. 

Five. He’ll hire additional PR to make sure they cover Henry’s passions and hobbies and interests instead of molding him into something that Texas wants him to be. The stories will still end up benefiting the both of them, but it’ll keep them both happy.

Six.

He knows what this should be. It’s just scary as hell to put it down on paper.

Six. He won’t serve more than three terms. He’ll still be involved in the process, but maybe he’ll consult or work on other people’s campaigns. It stings to think of those long-term hopes evaporating, but he wants to be in politics for the people and that’s never changed.

He can be a civil rights attorney again, maybe even work for the DNC, but the point is that he and Henry will be equals and it’ll be Henry’s turn to guide their relationship. 

Alex puts down his pen, knowing instinctively that the list is done with that last line. Now, it’s just a matter of talking to Henry about it. 

He’s not even sure whether he’s relieved about the fact that the election is impending in a few weeks. It’ll help to drive his anxiety to a new topic, but at the same time, he kind of wants to keep all his stress on his worries about Henry, without being distracted by his _entire career_ on the line.

Though, if he loses, it’s not like he needs this list. Does he?

Carefully, Alex folds up the list and slides it into an envelope. The election is three Tuesdays from now. He’ll talk to Henry when it’s over. Either they’ll be setting out on a new path because Alex has lost, or they’ll talk about the list and Alex will make his promises to his husband. 

It’s really fucking awful, but right now, Alex isn’t sure whether he’s hoping for a win or a lose.

* * *

Election night arrives and with it, Alex’s nerves hit an all-time high. 

“I think you’re actually shaking,” June observes as she dusts some lint off his shirt. 

He’s decided to watch the results at his and Henry’s townhome, but that hasn’t stopped June from making sure he’s camera ready if he wins (she says when, because she’s optimistic and perfect and the yin to Alex’s yang when it comes to his fears about this election). 

“If I could, I’d vibrate right into tomorrow,” he says, ducking to check his reflection in the small mirror in the bedroom. He looks fine. He looks the same as he looked ten seconds ago when he last checked. Deep breath in, and then out.

“Mom told me you paid her a visit,” June says. “The H-word?”

Alex nods, not trusting himself to say anything about it. 

“And?”

“Not counting my chickens t’il they hatch,” Alex says in a monotone, staring forward at the bedroom door that separates him and the others in their home. “I have a plan,” he promises, when he can hear June winding up in protest. “I have two plans,” he amends. “Tonight sort of determines which one happens.”

The first is the list sitting securely inside an envelope on the nightstand.

The second (if he loses) is status quo and trying to pretend the foundation of his and Henry’s relationship didn’t nearly break because of one campaign. 

“You’re going to be okay?”

He gives her a look of utter disbelief. The fact is that he’s still freaking out because it’s election night and the polls have been both too close to call and Nora keeps warning him about how polls in general have become a failing art at being accurate in their predictions. Even without his worry about how Henry will take everything, he is _so not okay_. 

“Geez, I get it,” June rolls her eyes as she holds her hands in the air. “Take a deep breath before you explode. I doubt Texas wants a senator made of confetti,” she says, giving him a light push back out to their little watching party. 

Alex heads for his seat, right between Nora and Henry, sitting himself down, remaining statue still. It’s not that his energy has dissipated, it’s more that he thinks if he even budges, he’s going to start pounding his heel into the floor like a jackhammer, which isn’t exactly the cool, calm, and collected vibe he’s going for.

By ten, the results still haven’t been called and Alex is starting to think, seriously, about stress-biting his nails. He still hasn’t really moved and he’s starting to feel his muscles grow achingly tense. 

Henry’s noticed. Truthfully, Henry’s known all along, but this is the first time that Henry looks at him like he actually needs to do something about it. 

He slides his palm over Alex’s shoulder, kissing his cheek. “Wait here,” he whispers, taking action.

“As opposed to going where?” Alex retorts, the stress making him snappish.

Luckily, Henry doesn’t think anything of it, returning within moments with two containers of the most beautiful thing known to mankind in his hand, along with two spoons. 

Alex adores him, reaching out with grabby hands. “Oh, _baby_ , I love you.”

“I’m glad to see the magic is still alive.”

Alex glances up from his eyeline, because he _may_ have been talking to the ice cream and not to Henry. He’s got about two seconds before Henry figures that one out, so he’d better fess up. “Obviously, I love my husband, but you’re bringing me Helados, and…” Well, he’s a sucker for Henry, he’s a sucker for some Helados and tonight, _stress eating_ is something he’s having to contend with. “Give it here, don’t you dare put them back.”

Henry might have counted on getting to keep one, but that’s where he’s mistaken. Alex makes a play for both, instantly, tearing into the first one with a huge mouthful.

“Ever so graceful,” Henry wryly teases.

“Fuck you, you love my messy mouth.”

The little _moue_ of Henry’s lips is tacit agreement, so Alex wins this round. With Alex mollified with sugary food, Henry settles back into his side, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up slightly as they share results from each county. Henry reaches for the spoon halfway through an update, coaxing Alex’s legs into his lap where he can feed him ice cream.

Alex feels a little bad that his eyes are glued to the television screen rather than his thoughtful husband, but they’d both known that Alex’s priorities tonight are skewed. Still, the proximity of their bodies together, the way Henry feeds Alex his favorite ice cream, and the gentle brush of Henry’s fingers over cheek, pushing his hair back at his temples is enough to get him to calm down.

He’s still extraordinarily strained and stressed, but there’s an edge of hope in sight.

No matter what happens, he still gets this. He always gets this. 

By the time they finish the ice cream, they still haven’t called results. In fact, things are getting worse.

It’s beginning to feel like that part in the movie where it looks like the bad guys have the upper hand and the glorious heroes are really in trouble. Alex would totally be okay with that if he had the final pages of the script, but right now, he’s still not sure if this movie ends in glorious victory or a mournful tragedy designed to teach young heroes a lesson that it doesn’t always turn out for the best. 

“I can’t look,” Alex confesses, burying his face in Henry’s shoulder. They muted the television after Alex nearly threw a shoe at CNN for calling a lead for Matthews. He’d always known it would be tight, but he’s losing his mind. 

Texas is supposed to be beautiful sky-blue these days, but that doesn’t stop him worrying when it’s his turn for a kick at the can. Henry is being so good to him, rubbing his back, feeding him ice cream, whispering that Anderson Cooper might be a silver fox but is clearly lacking intelligence if he thinks Matthews is going to win.

That list of Alex’s is securely sitting in the bedroom, just waiting on the results.

Henry keeps rubbing Alex’s back, but the mood in the house is good. Nora looks hopeful and so does June, which must mean that the results (while tight) must be good for Alex. “Would you like me to talk American politics for you?” Henry whispers.

He may as well have asked Alex if he wants him to talk dirty.

“Always,” he exhales, aware that this is a stress point between them, but he needs the reassurances.

“Well,” Henry begins, “Nora has reliably told me that the remaining counties with outstanding ballots happen to be very Claremont-supportive. Even with a margin of error, your post-polling numbers and tendency to capture the mail-in votes, counted last of course, puts you on course for a win outside of the automatic recount.”

Alex nearly growls for how sexy that sounds coming from Henry. He doesn’t miss the way his smile doesn’t hit his eyes, but it will. Alex already knows it will. 

Henry keeps rubbing Alex’s back as he talks about various appeals they can put into practice if there’s any doubt thrown against them, and he goes the extra mile by reminding Alex of all the policies he’ll fight for if he gets in. He is the sweetest, kindest, most generous man Alex has ever known.

How the hell did he hate him for so long?

(Right, he didn’t, he never did, he’s just an idiot)

Alex keeps shifting, not able to sit still. He doesn’t move from his spot, because that would take his attention off the television and that’s not an option right now. Sitting between Nora and Henry, Alex intends to march towards his fate, whatever that is.

“Hey!” June shouts. “Y’all, I think there was a ballot drop making its way in, they’re updating the numbers now!”

“Shh,” Nora hisses, as they cut back to the magic board on screen, where Alex’s fate has boiled down to a bunch of percentage points and numbers. He knows he’s not the presidential race, he’s not the exciting one, but they’ve still been sparing him plenty of time seeing as he’s got one hell of a story going for him.

He and Henry have definitely made some history over the last eight years. 

“We just got another large batch of votes from Harris County,” says the analyst on screen, “and I have to pass it over to our decision desk, because I think we’re ready to call.”

“Ow,” Nora gripes, as Alex squeezes her hand so tightly he’s pretty sure he’s breaking something.

It’s not like Henry’s complaining, and Alex has got his other one (though he is furrowing his brow in a very adorable, yet grimacing way). 

“That’s right,” they say on screen. “With this latest round of ballots, we’re able to call a winner for the Texas Senate seat up for election.” 

The screen turns blue.

It turns beautiful bright blue.

“With just over 52% of the vote, Alex Claremont-Diaz-Fox will be Texas’s next senator. It’s quite the story, you know, he’s the son of the…”

Nora shrieks, drowning out the television. June’s not much better with her shouting. People in the room are snapping pictures, but Alex sits there ignorant to them, staring at the screen. He feels a little shocked (or is it numb) because now he knows what direction he’s about to take.

“You did it,” June whispers, kissing his cheek. “You did it, I’m so proud of you, you did it!”

“Knew my polling was accurate,” Nora boasts, but Alex isn’t paying attention to any of their close friends and family bursting to congratulate Alex.

No, Alex’s eyes are set on Henry. 

“I did it,” Alex breathes out. 

“You did,” Henry agrees. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which needs to stop.

Alex reaches out to grasp Henry’s hand, dragging him to their bedroom. Once more, he’s grateful that he’d decided to wait for results at their home. “Hey, before you get any wrong ideas, let’s talk, okay?” He feels _good_. Like, really good. He’s got a plan and when Alex has an idea in his head, he’s like a dog sinking its teeth into a bone.

He’s not planning to let go.

Henry stands there, amused and patient, as Alex closes the bedroom door behind him. The reporters and photographers will be here soon for him to give his media-approved interviews, but he wants to make sure things are right between him and his husband before he does.

“Congratulations,” Henry says, effusive with joy and pride. “You did it, but I knew you would. Every time you doubted yourself, it was adorable,” he teases.

Alex can’t help his laugh of relief. “It’s a time-honored tradition to think the worst,” he defends himself, even if every part of his body sings with the victory. “Hey, so, now that I’ve won and I’m going to be a Senator…”

He’s going to be a United States Senator.

What the fuck, how does this feel so damn good? 

He keeps going, finding the list so he can put it on the bed. “I want you to know that my ambitions and dreams should never shine brighter than yours,” he says. “I wrote a list. I put down the things I wanted. I’m not gonna lie, of course I want this,” he says, and keeps barreling forward. “But, fuck, Henry, I want you more, so I want to figure out how we make this work and I think the best thing I can do is offer you a promise.”

Henry’s not saying anything, obviously wary about where Alex is going with this.

“Three terms, max,” Alex says. “That’s not because of you. It’s because I don’t have aspirations to become President,” he admits, and that’s honest. “I don’t want to spend my life in a political gilded cage either, not when there’s so much good that can be done with your charity work and my law degree. Three terms, then you’re in the spotlight, baby.” 

Henry doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Alex,” he says, in that patient lecturing tone he gets when he’s trying to put other people first. “I told you that I’d never ask you to do that for me.”

That’s the beauty of it. “I know,” he vows. “The point is that you _didn’t_ ask. The point is that I want to do this for you. My lifelong ambition isn’t being President where you have to sit under a microscope. My goal, the only thing I really want out of life, it’s being with you. I know I can do great things in three terms.”

“If you’re elected for them,” Henry teases wryly.

“Hey, shut up,” Alex laughs. “Yeah, if I’m elected for three. The thing is, then I’m more than happy to swan off into the sunset to write a book, go back to practicing law, supporting you without you having to ask for it.” 

That’s what marriage is about, right?

That’s what forever ought to be.

“I need you to accept.”

Henry looks startled by Alex’s words, but it’s important to him that Henry is on board. They have to do this together, the way they’ve done most things. True, the last year has been a little more of a hiccup than usual, but Alex isn’t taking it like a brick wall; more of a speed bump that they had to slow down and get over. 

“I do.”

It’s the second time that he’s heard those words. The first had been at the lake house, with Henry looking so utterly and completely _princely_. Back then, Alex had thought he’d never see Henry looking more beautiful and perfect. 

He takes it back. 

Henry’s much more beautiful now with a slightly perplexed look, his brow knit with worry, mouth parted with shock. “Best words I’ve ever heard,” Alex replies, wrapping his arms around Henry’s neck to pull himself in closer. He might sob with relief, both because of his victory and because he and Henry are going to make this work. “I don’t want you being a trophy husband or a political asset. I want you to be Henry and when the time comes, I’m gonna be your Alex.” 

Henry looks calmer, too. If Alex is honest, he looks better than he has in months, which goes to show you how long it’s been weighing on him. His shoulders are looser, the line in his forehead is gone, and things are starting to look like they’re going to turn out just fine.

They’ve made history once before. 

“Ready for a new chapter?” Alex asks, reaching down to take hold of Henry’s hand, turning them back towards the door. 

“Always,” Henry guarantees, kissing Alex’s temple. 

Beyond that door, reporters, family, and friends are waiting. Past that door is Alex’s new start and Henry’s support of it. Past that door isn’t history, but a future that Alex has only begun to recently realize is possible.

Hell yeah, he’s ready to write some new chapters.

Henry’s hand in his, he takes a step towards the door. Triumphant, relieved, Alex opens the door to greet his future.


End file.
